To Find Tomorrow
by Rukia Siry
Summary: The heroes that fought for centuries don't get happy endings, you see. They're brought back, over and over until their souls lose their luster and their hearts fade to gray. The hopes and the dreams disappear, and then all that's left is icy regret. Fantasy AU.
1. Prologue

Near those mountains to the west and across the river that feeds the Waterscape, you might find a valley. It's a legend, of course. It's always been, because almost no one has seen it, and the ones who stumble across it never find their way out.

Don't look at me like that. Maybe you'll be the first, eh?

Some say it's haunted. They say that ghosts roam the crags and vengeful spirits howl from the ravine depths, that monsters haunt the valley floor and prey upon any who dare trespass. Fearsome creatures indeed, to hear them described. Golems of crystal and granite that haunt sky and earth alike. There's no escape, not once they've caught your scent.

But… I've seen a lot and done a lot, and I don't put any stock in gossip. There be plenty of reasons why people might lose their way. Miss a step, and a rockslide spells your end. Even if it's not you slipping over the jagged edge, you might wish you had. Exposure in the Pulsian mountain range isn't something to scoff at. Matter of fact, you might wish you'd fallen along with your supplies and died a quicker death.

And when it's not a natural disaster, it's the beasts. Normal beasts, if you count dire wolves and giant bears among the mundane.

Oh, I don't sound convinced, do I?

I might have a different reason. Don't look at me like that, kid. You live as long as I have, you might just pick up a few things, too.

That valley you're so eager to run off too used to have a name, once upon a time. Not many people remember it. They called it Oerba, when it used to be green and filled with flowers, nary a cloud in sight for many a mile.

Of course, most people just call it the Valley of Fallen Souls now, and even then it's shrouded in legend. I'll tell you the main one – no Cinderella or Snow White, I'll say. I could sit and tell you the whole story – but we'd still be here when autumn came around again.

I suppose the heavily abridged one will do for our purposes.

They say that every once in a while, a great soul rises in a time of need. Or multiple great souls, if it suits you. They fight for justice and life and everything we deem good, and they succeed in creating a better future. And once their duties are done, let's say they live a fine and fruitful life, die long-lived and happy.

Don't they?

What's with that face? So you don't know the old stories. What they teach kids these days, I'll never know. We'll have to move quickly if there's any hope of finishing this in good time. I hope you've heard of Etro, at least. Mwynn? Lindzei? Pulse? Good. So, as the Goddess of Death, Etro guided the cycle of life. We die, we merge with all the other souls and are reborn anew, remade from the chaos from which we were originally shaped. Which isn't exactly what happened with such heroic spirits, sad to say.

Heroes don't _get_ happy endings, you see. They're brought back, over and over until their souls lose their luster and their hearts fade to gray. The hopes and the dreams disappear, and then all that's left is icy regret.

You know _that_ legend. Rewarded with eternal life in the form of crystal, blah blah blah. I'm sure the Sanctum Church would have my head for this, but that's utter dog scat.

The gods may care for our welfare and worship, but never forget. We humans are just pawns in some greater scheme of theirs, dancing to their puppet strings. The lesser gods, the fal'Cie, cannot directly influence the world. And as such, they rely on mere mortals to carry out their work for them.

Of course, none of them consider their fates the first time around. It's an honor to be chosen by the fal'Cie, it is. Give or take a few centuries, you might sing to a different tune.

After a while, those paltry little notions like _honor _and _kindness _and _right _all cease to matter. What takes its place is hopelessness. Resignation. What becomes most important is fulfilling your god-given task so you can return to dreams and slumber, if only for a little while.

Come to think, I doubt you'd hear this story anywhere else. Certainly not in the halls of the beloved Sanctum, for all their blind posturing. But it doesn't matter. Whether their actions stopped the flooding of the flatlands or destroyed a conquering army, the fact is, humans were never meant to live forever. No matter how many lives those people saved, no matter how much they were revered, no one should envy their fate.

Oh, but it's getting late, and you'd best get some shut-eye if you plan on leaving come dawn tomorrow. Though truth be told, I don't think I ever caught your name. Care to share?

…

Noel, is it? Good name, that. I hope you find the treasure you seek. Your Yeul does seem to need it.

Best of luck, lad. Do try not to die.

You're the most interesting hero I've seen in centuries, after all.


	2. Chapter 1

From the village of Bodhum, it had taken Noel several hours to make his way through the Sunleth Waterscape and then over the river, paying for passage on a boat that normally ferried timber across the river. There weren't any passenger ships, mainly because no person with half an ounce of common sense would want to go there.

_I wonder what that makes me, _Noel wondered with a sort of grim humor. Even the lumber companies only went ashore in large groups and never stayed for long. Wolves that stood shoulder-high, vicious cave bears, poisonous slimes – Noel's list of horrendously painful ways to die was getting longer by the minute, fed only by the cringe-worthy stories the ferry owner regaled him with on the hour-long ride across in an attempt to dissuade him from going.

Noel could totally tell the poor guy thought he was sending him to his death. It almost made him feel bad for carrying on anyway.

Well, he could handle it. Hopefully.

_What would you know_? A voice chided him. _You've never hunted outside the territory of Paddra_.

Paddra, the kingdom that overspread the southernmost tip of the Yaschas Massif. It might have been a power that rivaled Cocoon to the northwest and the Pulse to the east, but it didn't boast a particularly strong standing army – rather, it focused efforts on prospering commercially, rich in culture and the arts.

Not that he dealt with any of that stuff. Noel was a fighter and a hunter, through and through. Maybe he could paint a picture with all the finesse of a toddler and couldn't carry a note to save his life, but he could track deer through wooded terrain and win duels against the best warriors Paddra had to offer.

He'd just have to believe in his ability to make it through whatever lay out there. He still had things he needed to do. A _lot _of things.

Though first and foremost, he had to figure out what he was supposed to do next.

_Near those mountains and across the river, _the stranger had said. Well, he'd crossed the river. Now there was the forest to deal with, and apparently according to his very poorly drawn map – starving artist here, remember? – there was supposed to be some kind of mountain passage somewhere to the west.

"Over the river and through the woods, huh?" Noel muttered. "Better get started."

/

Hours later, Noel had to admit that he was completely lost.

It wasn't his fault, honestly. Everything just looked the _same_, from the moss-draped trees to the wildly colored ferns to the oddly shaped rock he had passed three times in the last forty minutes.

He couldn't even head in a straight line because of all these darn _trees_.

Not to mention that the wildlife had not been kind to him. At least the wolves he had seen had been weaker and relatively easy to dispatch or chase away. Less easily dissuaded had been the bear whose nest he had disturbed when he'd tripped over a practically invisible ledge.

That hadn't been an enjoyable fight.

Still, right now, he'd take the bear if it meant knowing his way around this stupid maze of a forest. The bear he could kill, at least.

Noel growled and took a moment to kick a rock in frustration. His foot met it at an awkward angle and it skidded a couple of feet across the mossy dirt. He kicked it again just to make himself feel better, and it flew off into the trees.

There was a dull _thud _as it bounced off a rock and smacked into something else with a shrill _yelp_-

Wait.

He reacted on pure instinct and a sudden rush of adrenaline. A split second to draw his swords, and he lunged into the bushes seeking out whatever enemy lay waiting to pounce –

"Ahh! Stop it, kupo!"

Noel stopped short. What had to be the oddest creature he'd ever seen bob up from the foliage, unhappily rubbing the knot on its head. It was a small, white-furred creature with an extravagantly disproportionate head and a bright red button of a nose set between slanted eyes and puffy cheeks. A tiny pair of bat wings flapped erratically on its back and a shiny scarlet jewel bounced back and forth on top of its head like a misplaced slinky. Clutched in its stubby arms was a short staff topped by what looked like a brass timepiece, like the handmade instruments he saw in antique shops.

Noel stared. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then stared some more.

When he finally got his voice back, the first thing out of his mouth was, "Are you a stuffed animal?"

The _thing_, which had been checking itself over and nursing the lump on its head, let out an indignant "kupo!" – he hadn't quite worked out whether that was a noise or an actual word – and _floated _up in front of him. "No! I'm Mog, kupo! Who are you, weirdo?"

Noel, slightly slack-jawed, was saved from answering by a voice some distance off.

"Mog? Mog! Are you okay?"

A girl stumbled out from between the bushes into the clearing, pushing the leaves out of her face. Upon seeing Noel with swords drawn, however, she stopped and tensed, eyes wide.

His first impression of her was that she looked wildly out of place in the forest setting. Dark blue eyes were framed by pink hair was cut just above her shoulders save for a long tail that trailed over her shoulder nearly to her waist. She also wore an outfit that struck him as desperately impractical considering the location they were in – a form-fitting red and white sheath of a dress with red leggings, thick gloves and ankle-height boots.

The thing – Mog? Weird name – immediately flew into her arms. She clutched it close, but kept her wary eyes on Noel.

Suspicion colored her tone. "Who are you, and what did you do to Mog?" Her voice rang out angrily, but Noel didn't miss the undercurrent of nervousness. This girl didn't look like a fighter, and she didn't act like one, either. Which begged the question of what she was doing in terrain as dangerous as this.

Decision made, Noel sheathed his blades and held up his hands, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. "I didn't do anything, I swear! I just… thought I heard something. And then-"

"He jumped at me, kupo! That's a mean thing to do!"

Noel tried to level a pleasant glare at Mog. "I thought you were a monster!"

"That's even meaner!" The moogle fluttered out of the girl's arms to shake its staff at him, but the newcomer seemed to have relaxed a little. She nodded to herself. "So… it was all a misunderstanding, then."

Noel sighed in relief. "Yeah. It was." He stepped back in what he hoped was a more casual stance. "The name's Noel."

The girl regarded him oddly. "I'm Serah." She put a hand on her hip, and Noel noticed for the first time that she seemed unarmed. Of course, she might be hiding knives down her boot or something, but that seemed highly unlikely, to say the least.

Not to mention that knives wouldn't do a thing against the _bigger _predators in the area.

An awkward silence fell. Noel leaned against the tree trunk, fishing for a way to diffuse it. "So. You wouldn't happen to know your way around, would you?"

It turned out that, unlike him, Serah did know her way around. Or more accurately, she was guided by the little puffball Mog, who mostly floated around her in the air as they walked. Said puffball's antics mostly had Noel shaking his head in disbelief – could those wings actually hold the creature up? – and generally trying to ignore him.

He had planned to reach the valley mouth by the end of the day, but his earlier misdirection had lost him enough time that it was getting too late to continue. Apparently, Serah had similar thoughts and suggested camping out together for the night. For safety, of course.

He could tell that she still didn't really trust him, but whatever.

An hour later, they sat across from each other opposite a small fire. Small, because even though the thicket they'd staked out for the night in dispersed the small column of smoke, a larger one likely would have attracted unwanted predators. Their dinner - some jerky in his waist pouch that he'd split between the three of them – had been mostly consumed and the fire dimmed to embers. Mog had apparently fallen asleep against Serah, but neither her nor Noel seemed to have similar plans.

They'd been sitting in silence for some time when Noel finally decided to broach a topic. "I… never really asked, and this might be kind of personal, but what are you doing here?"

Serah jumped, then relaxed when she realized he was talking to her. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, eyes murky in the light of the warm embers. "I could ask you the same question."

He shrugged. "No offense, but you don't really look the type to be wandering around the wilderness on your own. It's not safe, you know?"

His new companion let out a squeak of affront. "Hey! I can take care of myself!"

Noel's eyebrow shot up. "Oh, really?" He couldn't picture it, to be honest. She was about a head shorter than he was and much more petite than any of the female fighters he'd grown up knowing. If he'd passed her on the street, he would have taken her for a civilian – a dancer or a schoolteacher, maybe, but not a warrior.

"Really! And I'm not alone, you know. I have Mog!" Mog snuffled something that sounded suspiciously like a _kupo _in his sleep at the sound of his name.

Noel stared critically at the creature. "Right, Mog. Sorry, but what exactly is he?"

To his surprise, Serah actually smiled a bit, covered her mouth to hide a giggle. Noel congratulated himself on finally getting her to unwind, even just a little. "I'm actually not sure. He says he's a moogle, though."

"Like the fairy tale?" He did look the part, but…

Serah nodded. "Yep! I was confused, too, at first. But," she placed a hand on her chest. "He's helped me out a lot. I wouldn't have gotten this far without him."

Serah sighed suddenly, and the lighthearted mood dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. She held out her hands towards the dying warmth, staring wistfully into the pulsing ashes. Her expression was softer, now, her shoulders more relaxed. Like she'd finally decided to trust him.

"You asked what I'm doing. I'm… I'm looking for my sister."


End file.
